He didn't have a choice, and he hated that he didn't have a choice.
Well. He did.
But to cling to the cabin at Elsie's expense was not right, nor what either of them wanted.
He waited until he received the report from the private investigator to make his decision. Everywhere Alice had been, the friends she stayed with, everyone was scrutinized.
There was no evidence that she had ever cheated on him. But he lingered on one particular line by the PI: It seems that attempts were made by her to initiate relationships, but were not successful.
At one time, he would have been indignant. When he was young, he had told Alice multiple times how beautiful she was. At the time he believed it.
In hindsight, she wasn't bad looking. But it was her selfish personality that turned him off. And apparently, other men as well.
Everything was always, and had always been, about her.
He wasn't willing for any more of his life to be spent on her. Even if it meant giving up the cabin.
After speaking with Elsie, he called Mr. Napier and told him he had changed his mind. They prepared the necessary documents and waited for the scheduled meeting.
He hoped Alice would give him some time to clean the place out. And find somewhere else to live. It was a consolation that he would have to find a home not just for himself, but for Elsie and their child.
Ironically, it was when he thought of their unborn child that he felt the loss of the cabin the most. He had dreamed of passing it on, and had indulged fantasies of sleeping on the couch in front of the fire with their son or daughter. Of Elsie pacing the back porch with an infant in her arms.
He told himself he was being silly. Wherever they lived, wherever they could be together, that was home.
Still, he mourned the loss of a dream.
At the meeting, everyone was cordial. Alice pressed her lips together when the offer was presented. He let out a breath when she agreed, that yes, she would accept the offer.
"I'm asking for sixty days to move out," Charles said steadily. "I'll need to find a different place, as well as somewhere to store things temporarily."
"That's fine," Alice said. A small smile played on her lips. "You've done a lot of work at the cabin, Charlie. Thank you."
He glared at her, but restrained himself from making a foolish comment. "Yes, well, it's been a work in progress, as you probably saw." He hated the thought of her being there, but knew there was nothing legally to keep her from it.
"Yes. It looks like only that other spare bedroom needs to be finished?"
He felt a pang of grief, and swallowed. "Yes."
She nodded. "I'll hire someone to finish it. You won't have to bother."
But I want to be bothered. Not that he could say that. "Whatever works best for you," He looked down, struggling to contain his emotions. That was going to be the baby's room.
"Well, I think we're finished for the day," Mr. Napier said. He stood up and they all followed suit. "After the paperwork is completed, we'll have you come in to sign everything. It shouldn't take longer than three weeks, a month at most."
Charles went to Elsie's apartment after, more for comfort than anything else. She held him a long time, her hands on his back.
"You probably think I'm being stupid, crying about an old cabin," he mumbled, brushing away tears. He smiled. "On the bright side, this means we can finally get married! But you're probably having second thoughts over being stuck with an old curmudgeon like me."
"No," she said, a sparkle in her eyes. "You'll be my curmudgeon, and that makes all the difference." She kissed him on the cheek before taking his hand and placing it on her belly. He gazed at her in wonder.
"Someone's...active."
"Very," she rubbed her belly fondly. "Better he or she be active now, rather than later. Mummy likes to sleep when she can," she linked her fingers through Charles's. He bent over and kissed her bump.
"Be nice to your mother," he rumbled. "She loves you very much. As do I." His heart swelled.
He would miss the cabin, but there were other dreams to look forward to.
00000000000
Nine months previously
Beryl puttered nervously around the bar, talking to herself. It was very early on a quiet Monday.
"What's on your mind?" he asked, eating his breakfast. She looked up sharply.
"You, of course." She came around the bar and sat next to him on a stool. "You're the talk of the town. I'm sure you knew that by now."
"Yes, though I don't know why," he said. He stabbed his fork into the spicy potatoes. She cocked an eyebrow.
"Don't you?" She sighed. "You're happy, Charlie. Truly happy, for maybe the first time in your life. People notice." She leaned an elbow on the bar. "Mother was right. You're blooming, Mr. Carson."
He looked down at his plate, his ears red. "I don't know what you're talking about."
She snorted. "Oh, yes you do. But unlike most people, I happen to know who has been the cause of your happiness." She paused. "You need to stop, Charlie," she said, her face serious. "You're my best friend, and I love seeing you happy, but you're married. You're married," she repeated at his look, "and unfortunately for you, you're not married to Elsie Hughes."
He gaped at her. "How did you know?" he whispered.
"I have eyes and ears. And it so happens Elsie's my other best friend. You're blooming, she's glowing. The way you two dance around each other, it's a miracle no one else has figured it out." She held up her hands. "I haven't said a word to anyone." She poked him on the shoulder. "But I do want to know what you hoped to get from breaking your vows. You've held out a long time. Why now? Unless you're planning on serving Alice with divorce papers when she gets back next week, you've been a heartless cad."
"No, I'm not," he protested, dropping his fork. "I-look, I know it looks bad. I've tried to talk to Alice, let her know how unhappy I've been. I'll try again when she gets back."
"So you'll stop seeing Elsie then?"
He blew out a breath. "I can't do that."
"You can't? Charles Ernest Carson! You've just told me that you're sticking with Alice! Bloody hell!" she yelled. "You really have just been using Elsie for sex!" She punched him on the arm. Hard.
"Ow!" he cried, wincing. "Please, Beryl, it's not like that! I do want to try to keep my marriage vows. I know it sounds mad, but they're important to me. That I keep my word. But-" he shook his head, "I won't stop seeing Elsie. Unless she explicitly tells me to. We…stopped seeing each other earlier this year, before Alice went away again. I can't do that again. I can't be apart from her."
Beryl's face was red, an ominous sign. "You'll have to come up with something better than that. All I'm hearing is a man who has his cake and wants to eat it, too."
"I love her," he said abruptly. "I love Elsie." He turned to say something else, what, he didn't know. Instead, he choked up, covering his face with his hands.
The chef's mouth dropped open. "Oh Lord. Have you told her?" she whispered finally.
"No," he mumbled. "I…I don't want to chase her away." He looked at his friend through red eyes, pleading. "I couldn't bear it if I told her and she…didn't."
"Crikey, what a mess," Beryl put her hand over her face. "Look, if I were you – well, I would've gotten a divorce years ago, but never mind that. You can't have it both ways. Either you stick with Alice, and stop this nonsense with Elsie, or you divorce Alice and then do as you please. But think about this, Charlie. It's not just your heart at risk, you know."
"Isn't it?" he asked. "I know, Elsie's helping you. But she doesn't have to stay here. Not for me."
"You daft man," Beryl said softly. "Do you think she's stayed just for me?"